


Martyrs Never Last This Long

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Pregnancy, Surrogacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy can't say he's thrilled with the idea of Clarke being Octavia and Lincoln's surrogate, but he's not really thrilled with pregnancy, as a concept. That's his issue to deal with. So if Clarke wants to do this, he's going to be there for her. That's what best friends are for. All his other feelings on the matter are irrelevant. Really.





	Martyrs Never Last This Long

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from [alfalfabellamy](http://alfalfabellamy.tumblr.com/)! Also please be aware that in this Aurora passed away due to childbirth-related issues and there are several references to this throughout the fic, although everything is left vague. Also I did some googling about surrogacy but not a ton, so if it's not that accurate, I, uh, don't care that much tbh.

"Do you think I should offer to be Lincoln and Octavia's surrogate?" Clarke asks over dinner one night.

The question is so unexpected and jarring that it should stop Bellamy in his tracks, but it doesn't. Instead he says, instantly and without thinking, "No," and has to watch Clarke's face fall for a second before she shuts off the emotion. 

"Just checking," she says, cool as ice, and he scrambles to recover.

"That's not--I didn't mean it like that."

"Mean it like _what_?" she asks. "It's one word. It's not ambiguous."

"It's not. But--I was going to be a mess if O got pregnant, obviously that's not better if it's you instead. Just because pregnancy freaks me out doesn't mean you should listen to my opinions about it."

Her smile is a little faint, but there. "So, this is your personal bias."

"Having O nearly killed my mom. Hell, it did kill her, in the end. It just took a few years to do it. When O said she wanted kids, I told her adoption was a better option than having her own. So you really shouldn't listen to me. Octavia already wasn't."

"I can't help it. It's like a disease. I always listen to you. I just don't always do what you say."

"Yeah, so do that. Ignore my shitty opinions, like always."

"And your opinion is that no one should get pregnant ever?"

He shifts a little in his seat, awkward. "It's not my favorite thing. I'm not campaigning against it or anything. But yeah, I think people care too much about having biologically-related offspring. The world is full of kids who need good homes already. But O and Lincoln want to have a baby, and I support that," he adds. "Obviously. I'm going to love it and spoil it rotten."

"But if I ask if I should get involved--"

"I'll be a mess. But that doesn't mean you should listen to me." He regards her across the table. It's not rare for her to ask if he wants to meet up for dinner, but she does always have a reason. And apparently this is it, today. So he says, "Tell me why you want to."

"Because they want a surrogate, and they can't afford to get one. Lincoln was venting about it last month, it's really fucking expensive and their insurance doesn't cover it. I wouldn't want to do it for free, but--I could do it for a lot cheaper. I have good insurance and I'd need some money, but not nearly as much as they'd have to give to a stranger."

"So, altruism?" he asks.

She looks affronted. "What's wrong with altruism?"

"Nothing. But this is a lot of altruism. It's not nothing that you'd be doing, Clarke. It's nine months of your life, closer to ten. It's doctors and morning sickness and giving birth. It's risking your life."

"Not with my health insurance," she says, her voice too light.

"Clarke."

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy. I know it's not. But I think it's something I'd be willing to do."

"Then if you want to, you should talk to them about it. That would be an amazing thing for you to do for them. But--you know you don't have to."

"I know. But I did some research, and I think I could do it. I'm not actually opposed to pregnancy. Unlike you."

"And you did pre-med, so I assume you know what you're in for." He shrugs. "I wouldn't do it even if I could, but that's me. I'm sure they'd really appreciate it, and you guys could work out a good plan for compensation and stuff."

"That's what I was thinking you'd say when I asked in the first place, instead of completely shutting me down."

"Sorry," he says, feeling himself flush, and she smiles.

"That's why I ask for your opinion. I like that you're honest." She considers him. "So, do you not want kids? I always assumed you would. You're pretty maternal."

"I am." It's an old joke, that he's a mom friend, but it's not inaccurate. He doesn't feel the need to conform to gender roles in parenting. "But I don't care about having biological kids of my own. I'd rather adopt or foster. If I was in a relationship, it would depend on what they wanted to do," he adds, in fairness. "If I married someone who really wanted to have her own children, I wouldn't refuse to knock her up. But if I ended up with a guy, that wouldn't be an option anyway."

Clarke lets out a sound that's suspiciously close to a giggle. "Sorry, I'm just imagining you having the _I refuse to knock you up_ conversation."

He has to grin. "Yeah, I'm hoping I'd do better with the real thing." It makes him sober. "Look, I really am sorry. This is a really great thing you're offering, I should have said that from the beginning. And whatever you decide to do, I completely support you."

Her smile goes soft, and she looks away. "That's the real reason I ask you. You always get it right in the end."

"I try." He pauses, reaches over and squeezes her hand, just for a second. "If you need anything, or--just keep me posted."

"I'm going to make you come when I talk to your sister."

"You know you don't actually have to be afraid of her, right? She likes you now."

"We didn't get off to the best start."

"Neither did we," he points out. But he does get why she and Octavia are still weird sometimes; Clarke and Lincoln dated when Clarke was in college and Lincoln was in grad school, and since O is one of those people who is psychologically incapable of remaining on good terms with people she dated, she was sure Clarke wasn't really over Lincoln. She tried not to be a dick about it, but he knows it bothered her for a long time.

His own issues with Clarke were easier to resolve; the two of them worked together before Lincoln and Octavia started dating, but had never actually met because Clarke does graphic design and he does sales, so he just emailed her requests and she filled them and quietly resented him because his emails were too brusque, and she was passive aggressive in response, and it all feels hilarious now. They spent a few weeks after Lincoln and Octavia introduced them continuing to be assholes to each other until they figured out it was basically a communication issue and now they're, well--

Now she's offering to have his sister's kid, so it would be weird if he asked her out, at this point.

It's nice to have an actual excuse to not do it, instead of just not knowing what the fuck to say to her.

"Please?" she adds, and it's both unfair and unnecessary. He was already going to do it, she doesn't have to give him that look.

"Of course," he says. "Just tell me when and where."

"Thanks for talking this through with me."

"Anytime. Anything you need, like I said. Whatever I can do."

"I hear pregnancy sucks," she teases. "You might regret that."

He manages a smile. "Trust me, I regret it already."

*

It doesn't surprise him that Clarke wants to make the offer that same week. Once she's made up her mind about something, that's it. Full speed ahead. It's a little disconcerting that the last step of this process was apparently consulting him, but he guesses it makes sense. She wouldn't have come to him until she was pretty sure.

It's a private conversation, so Clarke doesn't want to have it at a restaurant, but she can't invite herself over to Lincoln and Octavia's for dinner, which means that she invites all three of them over to Bellamy's instead, since she can't cook and doesn't actually own a real kitchen table.

"Being your friend is a fucking pain," he grumbles without heat.

"I'm helping!" Clarke objects. She's on chopping duty and isn't great at it, but he can't help but find that kind of cute. He might be pretty far gone, but it is _nice_. Cooking with Clarke always feels stupidly domestic, and he loves it. "And you volunteered."

"Just because you were fishing," he says. "I can take a hint."

"I was open to other suggestions, you were the one who said you'd cook. You love having your sister over for dinner," she adds. "Don't pretend you don't. And you did say anything I needed, I could just ask, so--"

"Don't make me regret that," he grumbles, like there's any way she could. Like it's not true regardless of whether or not he said it. "How's the oven doing?"

"Four hundred. Onions are done."

They've got everything in the oven with twenty minutes to go when Octavia and Lincoln show up, and he can see the nerves hit Clarke the exact moment his sister opens the door and yells, "Hey, Bell! Hey, Clarke!"

"They're going to be happy," he murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down her back, quick, just to reassure her. "Don't worry."

"It's a weird thing to say," she admits, mouth quirked in half a smile. "I never thought I'd be offering to have someone's baby."

"Isn't that kind of how marriage works?" he asks, and she elbows him. 

Octavia comes in before either of them can say more, sniffing the air cautiously. "Are you making casserole? Do you have bad news? Good news? What's going on?"

"You can't even pretend to be polite and make small talk first?" Bellamy asks. "Come on, O."

"You're my brother, I don't have to be polite to you."

"Thank you for inviting us over, Bellamy," Lincoln says, smooth. "We appreciate your cooking for us. We brought wine."

"See?" he asks. "Lincoln's polite. Do you want a glass of this?" he adds, to his brother-in-law. He does like Lincoln. He can't imagine how he and Clarke were, as an actual romantic couple, but he thinks that's just because he and Octavia are so good together. He has trouble wrapping his brain around Lincoln with anyone else.

He also has trouble with thinking about Clarke in a relationship, but that's a different issue.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

He pours four glasses without asking his sister or Clarke, and it feels awkwardly adult, standing around with actual glasses of wine. It's a lot more formal than their usual beers on the couch with video games. Which it _is_ , but he still feels vaguely like he's in one of those shitty movies about a man-child learning to grow up. Except he's pretty sure that if anyone in this scenario is a maturing man-child, it's Clarke. _He's_ the one who has a kitchen table here.

Octavia must be thinking along the same lines, because she takes a sip of wine and says, "Seriously, Bell, this is weird. Are you guys engaged or what?"

Clarke's sip of wine would probably more properly be called a gulp; Bellamy maybe should have reminded her that she won't be able to drink while pregnant, but now isn't really the time. Besides, she's made up her mind, and she probably knows about the alcohol thing. She's done a lot more research than he has, it definitely would have come up at some point.

"It was actually my idea," says Clarke. "I wanted to talk to you guys, but I can't cook, so Bellamy is helping."

Octavia's eyes cut to him again, and that is, he's pretty sure, a _your crush is pathetic_ look. That might actually be the other continuing source of tension between his sister and Clarke; Clarke isn't dating him, and Octavia sees that as a personal failing on her part, not his. He's the one who's never asked her out or anything. It's not her fault he hasn't made a move. And if she's not interested, that's not her fault either.

"You are aware dinner isn't a prerequisite for talking to us," says Lincoln. "You can just talk."

"It's a big conversation." She takes another gulp of wine, and he resists the urge to rub her back again again. Comforting her should be his primary function, but he's not sure that's the best way to accomplish that goal. He settles for shifting closer, pressing his shoulder against hers, a reminder of his presence. 

"But you're not engaged," says Octavia.

"I know you're looking for a surrogate, and I wanted to offer," Clarke says, fast and harsh, like an explosion. Like she's starting an argument, not doing them a favor.

To be fair, Octavia looks about as gobsmacked as if Clarke had hit her. "What?" she asks, at the same time Lincoln says, "We couldn't possibly ask you to do that."

"I did the research," Clarke says. "I know what I'm offering as much as I can, and I still want to do it. You didn't ask me for anything. I decided it could be worth it for me to do it."

Of course, that's what Octavia seizes on. "Could be?"

"I'd need some compensation. Not as much as your other donors were looking at, but--expenses, stuff like that. I don't care about making money off this, but I need to not lose money."

"What's Bell got to do with it?"

"Moral support. And he told me pregnancy is a nightmare and I should never have children," she adds.

"That sounds like Bell." Octavia considers her, as if she's expecting to be able to _see_ strings attached to the offer. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to do this?"

Clarke's shrug is a little uncomfortable. "I thought about the pros and cons and decided it was worth it. I know how much this means to you, and--I can do it. So I'm making the offer. That's it. If you don't want me to do it, I won't be offended, I just--"

"Are you kidding?" asks Octavia. "If you're willing to do this, we'd owe you _forever_."

"Honestly," says Lincoln, and Bellamy thinks he maybe hadn't been capable of speech before this. He looks dazed, struck dumb with joy, and Bellamy still doesn't quite _get_ it, although he feels like he should. Passing on genes is a biological imperative. You're supposed to want to do it. But he can't wrap his brain around the kind of pain that _not_ having kids has caused his sister and her husband. It's just beyond his understanding.

But they look so happy. He doesn't need to get it to think this is great.

For the rest of the evening, he takes a back seat. They have a lot of logistics to cover, a lot of which they can't really do here, because he doesn't have any stuff. Clarke needs doctor's appointments and tests, they have all sorts of things to do, budgets and logistics and issues. It still might not actually work out, but O and Lincoln been on the verge of giving up entirely, and he can see this reinvigorating them before his eyes. 

He keeps his mouth shut unless prompted, makes sure everyone has food and wine and makes sure Clarke doesn't look too overwhelmed, and that feels like more than enough reason for him to be there. It feels like he's helping.

Octavia actually hugs Clarke when she and Lincoln are leaving, and Clarke looks mildly alarmed. Not that he blames her, exactly; she and Octavia have known each other for five years and have never really been the kind of friends who hug. He doesn't think Clarke would volunteer to have a baby just to get on good terms with his sister, but it's probably a nice bonus.

She doesn't leave with them either, but instead collapses onto the couch, looking just as dazed as Lincoln did earlier. He feels a little left out. He's the only one who's calm about this, so far. But it's not like that's going to last.

He sits down next to Clarke, smiling back at her goofy grin. "That was good, right?" she asks. "That went well."

"Looked good to me. How are you feeling?"

"Is it weird that I didn't think it would be this big a deal? Not--of course it's a big deal. But I didn't realize they'd be like that."

"They probably didn't either. It is a huge deal," he adds. "What you're giving them."

"But you get it," she says. "Not being overwhelmed."

"I get it, yeah. I know how important it is to them, but it's like knowing cilantro is awesome for some people. It still tastes like soap to me."

She smiles. "Exactly."

"You know what it's going to be like if you change your mind now," he says, careful. "You can, but--"

"I'm not planning to. If the doctor says I can do it, I'm going to." She stretches. "Hey, if you let me sleep on your futon I'll give you a ride to work."

"Good deal. I'll get the sheets."

She stands when he does, looking a little nervous. "Can I ask for a favor first?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I want a hug."

He has to laugh, folding her up in his arms. "Jesus, is that it? You were so serious. I thought it was something bad."

"It was an emotional night, shut up," she says, muffled against his chest. 

"What, the hugs from O and Lincoln weren't enough from you? I thought Lincoln was going to cry."

"I think he did when he was in the bathroom."

"Yeah, probably. You don't have to make a big deal about hugs," he adds. "You want a hug, just hug me. I'm never going to mind."

"Oh good. I'm getting the feeling I'm going to need a lot of hugs. I don't even have pregnancy hormones yet. I'm just overwhelmed that your sister finally likes me."

"It would be a real dick move to hate the woman who's potentially carrying your baby, yeah." He lets himself kiss her hair. "I assume Lincoln's got O, so--I'm here for you. I know it's going to be weird."

"It's definitely going to be weird, yeah." To his disappointment, she steps out of his arms. "Thanks for everything. Dinner and--"

"You made my sister's entire year," he says. "Probably her entire life, if this works. You don't have to thank me."

"Tough luck, I'm going to anyway. You want to watch a couple episodes of _Brooklyn 99_ or something before bed? I'm still kind of wired."

"I always want to watch a couple episodes of _Brooklyn 99_." 

She settles into his side once they're on the couch, and he'd feel bad for how much he enjoys the cuddling, but it's helping Clarke, so it's not like he's being _selfish_.

It feels like the kind of thing that he's going to be telling himself a lot, for however long this whole surrogacy thing lasts.

But he is helping. It's the least he can do.

*

Things move a lot more quickly than Bellamy expects them to. Octavia had given him a projected timeline for getting a surrogate, but apparently a lot of that is about getting a _stranger_. With Clarke on board, the legal stuff is more streamlined, the compensation conversation is shorter, and they don't have a lengthy matching process. It's just the medical side of it, and while Bellamy finds that way more stressful than he thinks he has any right to, it's pretty fast. Before he knows it, contracts are signed, doctors are lined up, and Clarke is on fertility treatments.

"At what point is this weird for you?" she asks, the day before the actual implantation. He's cooking her dinner mostly because he needs _something_ to do with all his nervous energy, and his sister would probably murder him if he tried to do it in her general direction. She deals with nerves in her own way; she doesn't need his help.

Clarke doesn't either, but she seems happy to put up with him anyway.

"You're going to need to give me more information."

"I don't know. Does me carrying your sister's baby freak you out?"

"Just when you put it like that."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. I know that's what you're doing, but it sounds weird. I'm going to have a niece or nephew. It's not exactly how I thought I'd get one, but that's cool. I'm excited." He glances over at her. "Is it weird for you?"

She flashes him a grin, but he can see the actual nerves lurking in her eyes. "Honestly? So fucking weird."

"So this is one of those times when you asked how I was doing because you wanted to talk about yourself," he teases. "Should have known."

"I did ask you first."

"You did." He checks her hip with his. "So, you feel weird. Second thoughts?"

"Not exactly. But it's like--before I went to college, or before I moved here. I can't believe I might be pregnant tomorrow. I know it _is_ clinical, so it's not a surprise it feels clinical, but--up until now, I thought of getting pregnant as a sign that I fucked up."

"Fucked up?"

"Sex ed in this country sucks. I came out of it thinking that if I got pregnant everyone would know I did a bad thing. Babies are the punishment for not having sex right."

"And you're getting punished for nothing."

"Exactly. I know I'm doing a good thing that my friends really appreciate it, but the stupid puritan part of my brain still thinks I'm doing something wrong. And I didn't even get to have sex first!"

He laughs. "Did you want to get laid? I bet you could find someone."

"What if I got pregnant, though?"

"If only you were bisexual or something and could hook up with a girl."

It's her turn to laugh. "If only." They lapse into silence, which he doesn't think much of, not until Clarke bursts out, "Seriously, how are you so calm about this? I'm glad you're here to talk me down, but why aren't you freaking out?"

"There's not a lot to freak me out yet. I'm going to be anxious while you're getting the procedure done, no question. And if the embryo takes and you get pregnant, I'll probably be a mess. But--this is fine."

"So, you're good until pregnancy sets in."

" _Good_ is a strong word. But that's what's going to be a problem for me, yeah."

She leans against the counter, considering him. "You really don't like pregnancy, do you?"

"It was pretty hard on my mom when she had O. It was just me and her, so I saw all the bad stuff. I know it's not always like that," he adds. "She didn't have health insurance so she should have been going to the doctor a lot more than she did."

"And it's pretty traumatic to be six and have to help deliver your little sister."

"That too. Sorry in advance for being weird."

"You did warn me." She ducks her head away from him. "I'm nervous, I guess. I made the decision, and now I have to live with it."

"You don't. You can change your mind, Clarke. It's--" 

"I'm not changing my mind. I don't want to." She worries her lip. "What if it doesn't work?"

"Then it's not your fault." He nudges her. "You could always fuck Lincoln again, right? If this doesn't work. Do it the old fashioned way."

"Destroy all the goodwill your sister suddenly has for me."

"Yeah, you'd be back to square one. But pregnant."

"Thanks."

"You keep coming to me, so I assume I make you feel better."

"You do, yeah. I meant the thanks. That was genuine."

"You're welcome. Get me a beer."

She stays for dinner and to watch the new episode of _Timeless_ , which he watches mostly to yell about history and she watches to make fun of him for yelling about history, and he's hoping she'll ask to stay, but she just gives him a hug and leaves, and that's when the weird sets in.

The problem is that Bellamy has no real official connection to the whole thing. Obviously, the theoretical child that may or may not develop from this whole thing would be his niece or nephew, but that feels insufficient to explain his level of investment. Part of it is about him and Octavia, of course; he understands that most siblings aren't like them, that his level of investment in this is abnormal. But it's also about Clarke, and how he feels about her, and while he thinks most of his friends have noticed, _I'm nervous because the woman I'm in love with is getting implanted with my sister and her husband's fertilized egg today_ is not really something you can just _tell_ people. Especially coworkers. Especially coworkers who also work with said woman.

So that first day settles him into what will become his status quo for the next few weeks: he stresses out quietly and alone, waits anxiously for texts from Clarke, and tries not to think too much about either the possibility that the implantation took or that it didn't. Both come with their own upsides and downsides for him, but the waiting really is the worst part, not least because everyone else is on edge about it too, and all of them have more valid reasons. It's his job to provide support. He can do that. He's happy to. And Clarke's requirements for support involve a lot of cuddling, from him specifically, so it's not like that _doesn't_ make him feel better too. 

He thinks he's doing pretty well, so he's surprised when his sister makes him get lunch with her the weekend before Clarke's appointment to find out if the pregnancy took, and Octavia opens with, "Are you going to survive this?"

"Survive what?"

"Clarke maybe having a baby."

"Generally the pregnant person is the one who might not survive," he says, and she rolls her eyes.

"See, that's what I'm talking about. You aren't actually worried Clarke is going to die, are you?"

"No. She has insurance."

"Having me didn't kill Mom," she says, and her tone is jarring, both defensive and defiant, but a little soft, too. Like she's trying to convince herself as much as him.

"Of course it didn't. I never--" He closes his mouth, because pregnancy was what ultimately killed their mother, but that doesn't make it their _fault_. He never thought Octavia thought that. 

"I know that's not what you meant," she says, still so careful, and he reaches over to squeeze her arm.

"If anything killed Mom, it was shitty healthcare," he says. "That's not on you or me, O. Clarke's got good health insurance, she's not going to die of complications we should have left behind fucking a hundred years ago. Pregnancy shouldn't be like it is in this country, and it's not going to be for Clarke." 

"But it does freak you out."

"Fuck, of course it freaks me out. Everything freaks me out. If everyone I loved decided to never do anything that stressed me out, you guys would have the most boring lives ever."

"And you love Clarke."

It's not like it's a hard question. Bellamy loves all his friends. He doesn't _say_ he loves people very often, but he loves all his friends, loves them without having to think about it. So many people treat love like some precious commodity, and Bellamy doesn't get that at all. It's not hard, loving people, not once he cares about them. It's harder not to.

But that's not what his sister is asking, and it's not how he feels about Clarke.

"Yeah," he says.

"So I'm asking: are you going to be okay? You're already kind of a wreck."

"I want to know if it worked. Not knowing sucks. And it sucks more for you guys than for me, so you don't have to worry."

"Oh," she says, with the tone of someone working out a puzzle. "I get it. You don't think you get to care about this, so you're just going to stress yourself to death alone."

He'd like to argue the point, but she really did hit the nail directly on the head. "I'm not going to stress myself to death."

"You shouldn't have to stress at all. Have you talked to Clarke?"

Denial is futile. "Not about this. Just about how she's doing."

"You should." She worries her lip. "Look, I know Clarke and I aren't--I'm not great with her. First she was Lincoln's ex, and I know I was stupid about that. And then she was yours. Like--Miller. I like her, but she's never going to be _my_ friend."

"She can't be friends with both of us?"

"You know what I mean. It's like Lincoln is mine, or Indra. Not all our friends are like that, but Clarke is. She's yours, and she's Lincoln's, and she's not mine."

"Okay. And?"

"And I'm pretty sure that's how she feels about me too. Maybe she would have done this for Lincoln, but--it's not for me. It's for you, Bell."

He gets his act together enough to not put his foot in his mouth with Octavia, like he did with Clarke. Just because he told her she shouldn't do this doesn't mean he meant it like that, and he doesn't have to tell his sister he was opposed to the whole enterprise. "For me?" he asks instead. It's a roundabout way to do him a favor.

"Not--" She huffs. "I'm not saying she's trying to seduce you with this surrogacy or anything. But making me happy makes you happy. I think she wouldn't have offered, if I wasn't your sister. So you should probably just tell her you're constantly worrying about this. She knows you well enough to expect it, she's not going to be offended. I'm pretty sure she did this expecting you to be there for her. And vice versa."

"I'm not avoiding her." 

"But you are just sitting here stressing alone because you don't want to stress her out more."

"She's the one who might be pregnant."

"Talk to her anyway. She'd probably be happier worrying about you than herself anyway."

That's almost certainly true. One of the things he and Clarke have in common is that they're happier when they have something else to focus on. So if she's worrying about him and he's worrying about her, they'll probably both be better off.

"Is this the first step to parenthood?" he asks, squinting at her. "That was pretty good. Totally maternal."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Thanks, though." He clears his throat, sits up straighter. "How are you doing? Nervous? Is this helping you deal?"

"I've got Lincoln, we're good. Of course I'm nervous, but--it's kind of nice to have it not be my womb this time. Even if--" Her huff is all annoyance, a sound he remembers from when they were kids and she couldn't climb a tree. The frustration of being unable to do something she thinks should be easy. "There's this fucked up part of me that doesn't want this one to take. Just a little bit."

"Really?"

"If it works for her, why didn't it work for me?" she asks, so fucking soft, and Bellamy pulls his chair around to hug her around the shoulders.

"There's nothing wrong with you, O. Just shitty luck."

"I know. Ninety percent of me wants it to work, and if it doesn't, it's going to be awful. But there's still that shitty part of my brain that wants to compete with her."

"Yeah." He kisses her hair. "I hope it works out for you."

"Even though Clarke being pregnant is going to give you prematurely gray hairs?"

"I'm thirty-five," he says. "That's an appropriate age to go gray."

"As long as you're cool with it."

"I'll live. Thanks for the pep talk, O. I appreciate it. Let me know if you need one."

"I'm good," she says. "But ask again on Wednesday."

It sounds so _soon_. But he knows that's not really a bad thing. They'll all feel better, when they know if this attempt worked, or if they need to try again.

"Will do," he says.

*

He calls in sick on Wednesday and texts Clarke at ten. She's working from home because she's allowed to do that, and to avoid dealing with coworkers. The appointment won't take the whole day, but he knows it's going to overshadow everything else.

**Me** : I called in sick

**Clarke** : Are you sick?

**Me** : Nope  
Total lie

**Clarke** : Mental health day?

**Me** : I'm hoping you're going to let me come to the doctor with you

**Clarke** : Worried about your sister?

**Me** : You, my sister, Lincoln, everyone   
I'm generally kind of a wreck  
Octavia told me I should let you know

**Clarke** : You should, yeah  
Also I don't know if I'm pregnant, but I really want a donut   
With lemon filling  
Like right now  
If anyone wanted to bring me one

**Me** : Be there in like twenty minutes  
Depending on the line

There's no basically no one at Dunkin, so he gets to her in just fifteen minutes. She opens the door, looking a little frayed around the edges, and he gives her a hug before he hands over the bag of pastries, an order of operations she seems to appreciate.

"You're a wreck?" she asks his neck.

"Always, yeah."

"You told me you were fine for now."

"I am. I'm freaking out about what's coming."

"That doesn't count as currently fine." She tugs him in and settles half on top of him on the couch with her laptop. So far, neither of them has really mentioned exactly how much more tactile she is with him, and he's not planning to be the first one to bring it up. The last thing he wants is for it to stop. "You're worried about what's coming?"

"Yeah. But it's not like it has much of an effect on me, so--"

She actually laughs. "You don't really think that, do you?"

"Not like it's going to on you."

"No," she admits. "But I figured you'd be involved. I'm already this needy, it's just going to get worse."

He swallows hard, hopes she doesn't notice. Most of her attention _is_ on her computer. "And I'm the one you need?" he asks.

The awkwardness of the question doesn't occur to him until she freezes, and he thinks about trying to salvage it, but he'd honestly rather let it slide. Just to see what she says.

"Who else is going to bring me doughnuts?"

"Yeah, you're right. No one else could possibly do that." His arm is already around her, so he gives tightening it a try, and she relaxes into him. "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? Pregnant. I might be wrong, but--"

"No period?"

"No period. It could be, like--psychosomatic or whatever. But I guess we'll find out."

"Do you want to be pregnant?"

"Yeah, that's kind of the point. Also, the implantation was awkward and I'd rather not do it again if I can help it."

"If you think that's awkward, wait until you're actually pregnant."

She laughs, snuggling a little closer and repositioning her laptop. "So, your mom."

"My mom?"

"Is there any stuff I need to avoid? Do you have--I know it was bad and hard for you, but is there stuff that really scares you?"

"You make it sound like I'm traumatized," he grumbles, but of course he's already thinking about it. "I don't think it's going to--this time isn't going to be a problem." 

"This time?"

"Yeah. If a doctor tells you that having another kid is a serious health risk, just _listen_ , and I'll be good."

"Octavia?"

"No. There was, uh--she got pregnant again, after O. And she died of complications during that one."

Clarke cranes around to look at him. "You never told me that."

"I don't really like talking about it," he says, and it does feel a little inadequate. He thought about telling her, but it felt like more of a burden.

"Still, if I'd known--" she says, which was exactly what he was expecting.

He gives her a gentle squeeze. "If you'd known, you might not have done this? I _wanted_ you to do this. I think it was a good idea. And I'm not worried you're going to try to carry a third pregnancy to term against the advice of medical professionals, so--yeah. I'm good."

"No wonder you wanted Octavia to adopt." She puts her laptop aside so she can give him her full attention. "How old were you?"

"Eight."

"And you guys lived with your grandmother after that, right? At least for a few years."

"Yeah. O was pretty young, she doesn't really remember it. And it's not--I don't think that always happens or anything. But I've never really had a good pregnancy experience."

"This one's not bad so far, right?"

The laugh is involuntary. "Just fucking weird, yeah."

"Which is a big improvement over bad." She gets her laptop back, apparently convinced he's not in crisis mode. "So, you want to come to the hospital?"

"Assume I want to come to the hospital basically every time you go."

"I'm going to be going to the hospital a lot, if I'm actually pregnant."

"I know."

She bites the corner of her mouth, looking pleased, and he's never been so relieved. "You can come to all the appointments you want, yeah."

*

The doctor confirms the pregnancy, but of course, it's still early days. They go out to celebrate in a tentative, kind of terrified way, like they're all afraid of jinxing it. Clarke drinks apple juice, and everyone else gets non-alcoholic beverages in solidarity, even though she insists they don't have to. Bellamy's probably just off booze for the next seven or so months, honestly. That's the level of investment they're working with here.

At least Clarke doesn't seem to mind.

He does a lot of reading when he gets home, finding out about every stage of pregnancy, what Clarke can expect, what he can. He's also basically reading what the father of the baby is supposed to do, but that's just practicality. No pregnancy guides include instructions for the uncle who's in love with the surrogate. And it's not like Clarke's going to be calling Lincoln when she needs backup. That's his job, and he's planning to be good at it.

So far, he thinks he is.

They were keeping the surrogacy quiet from most of their friends until they knew if it took. It wasn't really a secret so much as an awkwardness, much like when Octavia started trying to get pregnant in the first place. She'd hoped that she'd tell everyone when it had worked, when she was a few months along and would be starting to show soon. She hadn't wanted to share until she was sure, and Clarke went along with that once it was her having the baby instead.

Octavia and Lincoln host a game night, and that's when they tell everyone. The fertility issues are a known quantity by now, not shared like the news of a baby would be, but quietly and on an individual level, to explain a bad day or the pressing need for a drink. Everyone was sympathetic, but no one really knew what to say about it.

So when Octavia says, "Okay, you all knew we had an ulterior motive, so here it is: the Blake-Trent baby is on its way," the reaction is both immediate and joyous. O has to bang the table to get them to quiet down again. "Just one other thing!" she says. "And then we're celebrating. The baby's in Clarke."

It's not _that_ many people--Miller and Monty, Raven and Gina, Jasper, Harper, and Monroe--but it's enough that every eye suddenly turning to focus on Clarke is a lot of attention. She doesn't back down, but she does move into Bellamy's side, just a little. 

"Clarke offered to act as our surrogate," Lincoln adds. "And we're so grateful."

"So is the baby already in you?" Jasper asks, curious, squinting like he will actually be able to _see_ the fetus inside her if he tries hard enough. "Or is it still coming?"

"It's in me. I'm about ten weeks along. Everything looks good so far."

"So that's a quarter of the way done, right?" Raven asks. "Ten weeks down, thirty to go?"

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," Clarke says, and Raven shrugs.

"Math is math. It's not supposed to be comforting, just accurate." She comes over to stand on Clarke's other side, eying her critically. "How are you feeling?

That seems to be the cue for the focus to leave her, and the group breaks up. Some people go to congratulate Lincoln and Octavia, others to check in on Clarke, and Miller, obviously, catches Bellamy when he's refilling Clarke's water for her. 

"You didn't tell me?"

"Not really my news."

"Yeah, but Clarke is having a kid. Your sister's kid. Don't act like you don't have a ton of feelings about this. I honestly don't know why you ever try to act stoic or whatever, you're so bad at it. I thought you were still freaking out about being in love with Clarke."

He glances around, but they're alone and he's pretty sure that wouldn't be news to anyone but Clarke, regardless. 

"No, I'm used to that," he tells Miller, and he snorts.

"Clearly."

"I can be used to it and not want to tell her. She's having my niece or nephew. It's going to be weird enough without--"

"So, what, you're telling me you're not way too invested in this and it's not weird?"

"I am and it is, but Clarke was expecting that. So it's fine."

"Fine."

"I'll call and cry on you once a week now that you know. We can set a time if you want. I know you worry."

"I actually am," Miller says, sizing him up. "Worried."

"About what?"

"I don't know, biological imperatives? Sympathetic hormones? You freaking out non-stop about how much this baby matters to Clarke _and_ Octavia?"

"I'm supposed to tell Clarke about that. She's my go-to person. It makes her feel better."

"Yeah, you're going to have plenty of feelings to go around."

"Thanks. It's good news," he adds.

"Until Clarke coughs and you're on WebMD checking if it means she's going to die."

"Can Monty somehow block me from going on WebMD?" he asks, only half-kidding. Clarke's mom is a doctor, so Clarke not only has a more realistic idea of when she needs to get medical attention than he does, she has a better person to consult about it than the internet.

"Yeah, bring your laptop over sometime, we'll set up parental controls. You can get drunk and vent all your feelings."

"I'm not actually drinking while Clarke is--"

"Jesus. I'll drink for you."

"Thanks. You're a real friend."

"You're pretending to be sarcastic, but I am and we both know it."

"You are." He glances into the living room, sees Clarke surrounded and looking a little worn out already. She isn't usually the center of attention for long. "I should go--"

"It's not your job to--" Miller huffs. "Seriously. It's not your job to take care of her. I know you're going to, but--"

"I want it to be my job." Miller opens his mouth, and he adds, "She takes care of me too. We've got this."

"Yeah," he admits. "You probably do."

*

The thing about pregnancy is that it escalates. There could be complications at any time, but the longer it goes without issue, the worse it would be if something _did_ go wrong. Which means that it really is a terrible fit for Bellamy, because there's no real point where he feels like he can let his guard down. 

Early on, it's at least fairly uneventful. Clarke's going through changes, hormones and morning sickness, all the expected things, but it's so standard that even he can't fret about it.

It probably helps that these things tend to happen when he's not around, so he doesn't have to witness them. He usually gets the aftermath, which is Clarke texting that she's not feeling great, and his offering to come over to hang out and bring her anything she needs. He managed to wrangle his own work-from-home policy, which he doesn't use as much as Clarke does, since he has actual meetings and clients, but they spend more mornings on her couch together, and more afternoons texting about how Clarke's body is turning against her.

It's not a bad routine, and he does settle into it, his heart not speeding up at every text, his nerves not buzzing every time Clarke so much as shifts. Intellectually, he knows that this is both a big deal and _not_ ; it's a huge thing, but it's not an abnormal one. It's the most natural thing in the world. It happens _all the time_.

But he can't forget that it's happening to _Clarke_.

The nights they spend together are simultaneously the best and worst. He feels better when he's around, even when he's not doing anything special. He doesn't need to fret over her or hover; he just needs to have the ability to do it, if she for some reason needs it. But mostly it's the same as ever, one of them staying late at the other's apartment and deciding not to go home. The only difference is that Bellamy always insists on taking the couch now, even in his own place, and Clarke tells him it's not necessary, but gives up on arguing. In the mornings, sometimes, she's grumpy or sick, and Bellamy appreciates his ability to be there and rub her back, let her curl into him. But it hurts, too.

His goal is to not kiss her until after she's had the baby, but he's not sure he's going to make it. She's really touching him _a lot_.

And then she starts showing, and it gets so much worse.

The first time it happens, he doesn't actually notice. It's Friday and they're stopping by the store on the way home from work to get dinner stuff. It's nothing they haven't done a thousand times, and he knows that most people seeing them probably assume they're a couple. It happens basically every time he's in public with a woman, including his sister.

But the pregnancy does make a difference. There's something about pregnancy that makes otherwise normal people believe that their intrusive questions are not only appropriate, but welcomed, which seems especially stupid in a country that's so shitty about abortion. He remembers it from his mother's pregnancy with Octavia, remembers being confused, at six years old, when she told people who asked that her husband was excited, that they were doing well. He didn't yet understand how much easier it was to lie about these things, and he'd forgotten all about it until Clarke says, "I know you can't always be here when I go out in public, but I kind of wish you could?"

"Yeah?" he asks, surprised.

"People are less nosy when they can see the baby's father. Or if they can tell themselves they can. People are just smiling at me instead of starting conversations."

"We could probably work out a rotation. Me, Lincoln, Miller--you'd never have to go out alone again."

It makes her smile. "Anyone who presents as male would probably do it, yeah."

"How's that been? The conversations."

She shoots him a look with more calculation in it than he'd like. "This is your new thing to stress about, huh?"

"You know me. I like to switch it up." He nudges her. "Come on, how's it been?"

"Weird. People are very friendly and want to know how far along I am, stuff like that, but I get it's, like--I'm a white woman who's clearly well off, so I'm a _good_ pregnancy, and then when I tell them I'm a surrogate for my friend and his wife it's like I'm some kind of saint, and it's surreal."

"So people are being really nice to you and you hate it."

"I'm not doing this to be a saint," she says. "And I don't actually want to talk about it with random strangers."

"My mom just made up a husband. Normal nuclear family. It's easier."

"And when I'm with you, I don't even need to bother making it up." 

It doesn't make him want the kid to be his. What people think when they look at the two of them, he doesn't want everything they see.

But it makes him ache all the same.

"Do you want to do this again?" he finds himself asking her, while he's making dinner.

"Be more specific."

"Pregnancy. Having kids."

She laughs. "Are you asking if this sucks so much that I never want to reproduce?"

"I always assumed it would, so--"

"I'm not opposed," she says, thoughtful and careful. "If anything would make me not want to do this, it's Lincoln and Octavia, honestly."

"What about them?"

"It just seems--" She sighs. "I know we're lucky this worked as quickly as it did. But the actually trying to get pregnant just sounds exhausting. I'd want to just not care, but--"

"You suck at that," he teases, and she laughs.

"Basically, yeah. I'd be writing up charts about fertility and ideal ovulation, and--" She shakes her head. "And that's all assuming I'm with someone who wants kids of their own, which I might not be."

"And someone who could theoretically impregnate you."

"And that. Are you changing your mind?" she asks, glancing at him.

"About what?"

"Pregnancy."

"Jesus, no. I hope you never get pregnant again. No offense."

She laughs. "It's not looking likely right now."

"I assume your dating prospects will look up once you have the kid."

Her expression is unreadable, and the hum she lets out could be assent or dissent. She's not looking at him either. "Maybe," is all she actually says, and before he can push, she adds, "I'm done with the tomatoes, what next?" and he lets it go.

*

It's six-and-a-half months into her pregnancy when Clarke finally snaps. Not that he knew she was on the verge of snapping or had any idea the blowup was coming, but he finds out very quickly when she tells him, "You don't _have_ to sleep on the fucking couch, Bellamy," one night, like this is the continuation of a long argument and not an out-of-nowhere proclamation.

He blinks, looking away from the closet, where he's pulling down sheets. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her glare is all defiance, ready for a fight.

"It's," he starts, and realizes he has no idea where he's going with the response. He clears his throat and tries again. "I really don't mind. It's not a big deal." He tries to figure out why she'd be upset, comes up basically blank. "Do you want to go home?" he offers. "I can give you a ride if--"

If anything, she looks _more_ pissed. "You have a queen-sized bed and I'm at the point in my pregnancy where I just want you to hold me, like, all the fucking time, so will you just stop being noble or polite or whatever and come spoon me?"

"You know this isn't actually an issue I was aware existed, right?" he asks, because his mouth is pretty good at operating without input from his brain. "I didn't know you were--" Her words catch up with him, and so does her expression, indignation that's almost masking her flush.

He swallows hard.

"Is that what you want?" he finally asks.

"Yeah." Her ire wavers, the outraged front falling apart as he watches her. "You don't have to, I just--"

"That sounds so much better than the couch," he offers. "Let me just, uh--I'll go get ready."

As he's brushing his teeth and getting changed, all he can think, on repeat, is that she said _you_. She didn't say she wanted to be held all the time, didn't say she disliked being alone. She said she wanted _him_ to hold her, specifically, and she clearly meant it.

She's right; if they both want the same thing, it seems stupid to ignore it.

It still takes him a few long moments to psych himself up to go into the bedroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, debating wearing his t-shirt or leaving it off, wondering where the line between _friendly support_ and _flirting_ is.

There's no universe where they haven't crossed it, honestly. They probably crossed it before Clarke got pregnant, and their relationship has only intensified since then.

He loses the shirt and goes into the bedroom.

Clarke is sitting in the middle of the bed, awkward and embarrassed in nothing but one of his old t-shirts, staring down at her hands. She doesn't look up when he sits down, but she does say, "Sorry."

"Sorry?"

"You didn't really deserve to get yelled at for not doing something you didn't know I wanted you to do."

"Yeah, but you don't have to apologize. You're pregnant enough you can just blame hormones for everything."

She smiles a little. "That's probably a factor, yeah."

He shifts closer, pressing into her side, body flooding with relief when she leans back into him instantly. "I don't love finding out I was apparently fucking up in an argument I didn't know existed," he says. "But I'm good with the rest of it."

Her gaze snaps up to his, calculating, and he gives her a soft smile.

"The rest of it," she repeats, slow.

For a second, he wavers, but she melts into him so completely as soon as he puts his arms around her that all his doubts evaporate at once. He wouldn't be like this with her, if he wasn't in love, and for the first time he grasps how reciprocal that feeling _has_ to be.

"All I want is you in my bed every night too," he admits, and when she grins, he lets himself lean down and kiss her.

Her response is sure and quick, her arms sliding around his neck as she shifts on the bed, getting more comfortable. He's the one to press her onto her back, worried about the angle and her straining herself, but neither of them is willing to break the kiss long enough to consult on positioning. It's been a long time, since he had anyone to kiss, and he's never wanted to kiss anyone else in his life as much as he wants to kiss Clarke.

It's only when his hand trails down her side and stutters at the bulge of her stomach that she pulls away, huffing.

"Fuck," she says, and he blinks.

"What?"

"We just should have done this _before_ I got pregnant."

He tucks her hair back, beaming down at her. "We should have done this years ago," he says. "But--" She gasps and writhes a little when he brushes his mouth against her neck. "I don't know what we _can_ do. Or, uh, what you--"

"I want you to fuck me for the next week straight," she says, and he drops his head against her shoulder. She tangles her fingers in his hair, rubbing gently. "Or at least the whole weekend. But you might have to start tomorrow. I'm kind of exhausted."

He smiles, leaning up to kiss her again, soft. "So you just want me to spoon you?"

"When you fuck me, I want to be able to fully enjoy it."

He groans, admittedly a little frustrated, but it's not like he disagrees. "That sounds awesome to me." 

"I feel pretty good about tomorrow," she says, curling around him, legs tangling with his. He's not sure he's ever been this happy that he's not getting laid.

"No rush. I'm not going anywhere. I love you," he adds, just to get it out there. "Like--fuck, Clarke. For years."

"Yeah, I was pretty sure you weren't just carried away with protective instincts due to pregnancy." He feels her lips press against his collarbone. "I love you too. Thanks for spooning me."

"This isn't technically spooning."

"Fine, thanks for cuddling with me and being a fucking dick about it."

"Literally any time," he says, grinning into the darkness. "Go to sleep, Clarke."

Her voice is already a little fuzzy. "I really do love you."

"Yeah. I know."

*

"I'm just saying, _I'm having my boyfriend's sister's baby_ has to be something you can sell the movie rights to," Monty says. "Lifetime, maybe? Or Hallmark? I don't know which women's entertainment channel is most in favor of surrogacy."

"If it was on Lifetime, Octavia would be the protagonist and I would be evil," Clarke decides, after a pause to think the scenarios thorugh.

"Yeah?"

She's got her feet in Bellamy's lap while they play video games at Miller and Monty's. Bellamy is not, by any stretch of the imagination, _good_ at Mario Kart, but he kind of enjoys it anyway. He likes to try to run everyone else off the track. Plus, it's nice to finally be on essentially a double-date, instead of hanging out with a side of pining for Clarke.

He'd say that having a girlfriend is the best, but it's really having _this_ girlfriend. It's being with Clarke.

"Yeah, like--it seems like I'm nice and cool and helping out, but really I want to seduce her brother and steal her baby. That's the Lifetime plot."

"You did want to seduce her brother," Miller points out.

"You did seduce her brother," Bellamy adds.

" _Seduce_ is a pretty generous term for what I did. I yelled at you about feelings and you liked it. And we don't want the baby anyway."

"If you were really evil, you'd be using Bellamy as the first step in your _real_ scheme," Monty says. "Which is obviously getting Lincoln back. And then the two of you raise the baby together, leaving a trail of heartbroken Blakes in your wake."

"Obviously," says Clarke. "Now no one's going to be surprised when I actually do that."

"Yeah, spoilers, Monty." He kisses her shoulder. "I'm glad we work as a romantic comedy and a thriller."

"We're versatile."

"I think you guys have to have a baby of your own for the romantic comedy coda," Monty says. "That's how it works. It's not happily ever after without a baby."

"Does that mean we're doomed to die miserable?" Miller asks, mild, and Monty grins at him.

"I think that's just a personality trait for you. Besides, Clarke's an experienced surrogate. If she's not doing anything else after this baby--"

Clarke pats her stomach, smiling a little. She looks like she might actually pop, and Bellamy will admit to finding it stressful. He doesn't like feeling as if his niece or nephew is going to burst out of her, _Alien_ -style. He can't wait for the kid to just get here. He likes kids a lot more once they've been born.

"I think we're done with babies," she tells Monty. "Bellamy's a conscientious objector."

"That's really going to damage your ability to sell the rom-com version of this," Monty says, all histrionic disappointment. "You're going to be stuck with the thriller version."

"We'll live," says Clarke, smiling up at Bellamy, and he ducks his head to kiss her, quick, before Miller can throw a pillow at him for excessive PDA. 

"Yeah," he agrees. "I think we'll be fine."


End file.
